Model Chart

After a week, the phone Du Ke had left at the villa had barely been turned on before dozens of missed-call notifications came flooding in. WeChat and QQ were both packed with unread messages.

He skimmed through them. Quite a few were from old classmates, nothing more than congratulations on getting a paper published in an SCI journal, along with remarks like "Take care of me," "Let me ride your coattails," "You've made it big, kid," and "Don't forget your old friends when you get rich." There were also messages from friends he had met at research institutions, likewise congratulating him on publishing an SCI paper. But judging from their vague praise, they probably had not seriously read the Journal of Chemical Physics copy Du Ke had sent them.

Du Ke did not mind. He knew full well that he was only an undergraduate graduate, and his alma mater, Anhui University, was neither a 985 Project university nor a 211 Project university. With credentials like his, who would bother reading his paper unless they were genuinely interested?

And even those who were interested might not necessarily understand an English paper.

In fact, Du Ke himself had to stumble through his own English papers with the help of translation software.

Aside from wanting to show off, his main reason for publishing was to establish the ownership of the Long-Haired Battery—now officially named the Electron Flow Battery—and hopefully attract investors through his papers. So whether outsiders were sincere or merely going through the motions, as long as they could bring themselves to praise him as awesome, he was satisfied. What he cared about was the response from people in the field.

"Hello, Professor Tao? It's me, Du Ke."

The call went through. It was morning, and Professor Tao had just finished teaching. He soon began chatting with Du Ke. "Your three papers have received a very good response. Several domestic experts and professors have already contacted the Journal of Chemical Physics and expressed strong interest in your electron flow theory. A few of them even said they wanted to study it in depth... Check your email first. They should have sent you messages."

The positive feedback from Professor Tao made Du Ke breathe a sigh of relief. During that week in Fantasy World, his papers had always been on his mind.

Sometimes, he imagined becoming an overnight sensation, like Cao Yuan after discovering magic-angle Graphene, and being named Scientist of the Year. Other times, he worried that no one would care, and that his papers would gather dust like most others. Sometimes he wondered whether his fourth paper, submitted to Physical Review B, had entered review yet, and whether it would be rejected or accepted. Every now and then, he also considered his plans for future papers.

In short, whether he could establish himself in academia depended heavily on making electron flow theory famous.

He opened his email.

Sure enough, there were quite a few messages. After filtering out advertisements and spam, he found six emails with clear signatures. He casually opened one. The sender was Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics—the Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics under the Chinese Academy of Sciences.

"Isn't that one of the institutions handling the Journal of Chemical Physics?" Du Ke knew something about the Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics. After all, the Journal of Chemical Physics was sponsored by the Chinese Physical Society and handled by Xiake University and the Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics. Its editorial board members were either professors from Xiake University or researchers from the Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics, with even more holding concurrent positions at both institutions.

So it was not strange to receive an email from Chen Yankai, an Associate Researcher at the Bincheng Institute of Chemical Physics.

"Associate Researcher... hmm, equivalent to an Associate Professor." With that thought, Du Ke began reading the email. It was not long. Chen Yankai mainly said that she had finished reading Du Ke's three papers and had been deeply inspired by them. She found electron flow theory very interesting, had some ideas she wanted to think through further, and hoped to research electron flow theory together with Du Ke—ideally through mutual discussion.

In broad terms, it meant that electron flow theory was good, and she had decided to follow it.

It barely counted as a form of "research competition."

It was like when Cao Yuan developed magic-angle Graphene. Not long after his paper was published, researchers from numerous institutions followed up over the next few months with important papers of their own, joining the study of magic-angle Graphene. A good idea was certainly important, but the person who discovered the idea was often not the one who ultimately produced the most significant results. It was simply too difficult for one person to carve through an entire path alone.

But.

Du Ke believed he was exactly that kind of monster. Sooner or later, he would carve through electron flow theory all by himself.

Of course, that did not stop him from welcoming other researchers to join in and champion electron flow theory. He replied to Chen Yankai: "Researcher Chen, welcome to participate. Electron flow theory is still an immature idea of mine. I am personally very pleased to receive recognition from fellow scholars, and I hope we can discuss and learn from each other in the future, working together to carry electron flow theory forward."

The next several emails contained similar messages. There were professors from chemical engineering universities, researchers from institutes, and even a doctoral student still in school.

But overall, they were all relatively unknown figures. No major names in the field had joined in.

After reading the emails, he opened the Journal of Chemical Physics website, found his first paper, and clicked in to check the reader count and ratio. The website had its own model chart attached beneath each paper, allowing readers to observe the statistics in real time. The readers were divided into three major categories: those who had only read the abstract, those who had read the full text, and those who had downloaded the document.

The meanings of the three categories were clear. Those who only read the abstract were not interested.

Those who read the full text were interested.

And those who downloaded the document were highly likely to conduct research. This also meant that if they really did research it and publish a paper, Du Ke's paper would gain another citation.

The impact factor of an SCI journal was based on citation counts. The Journal of Chemical Physics had an impact factor of only 0.4 last year, meaning each article was cited an average of 0.4 times.

"This ratio is pretty uneven. There are actually around two hundred and ninety people who only read the abstract! Fewer than eighty read the full text, and only around fifteen downloaded it... Looking at other papers, the ratio between abstract readers and full-text readers is generally around two to one. Mine isn't even three to one, though the download ratio is decent. Does that mean those willing to read the full text are at least somewhat interested in researching it?"

Thinking that, Du Ke opened the second paper.

He scrolled straight down to the model chart. This time, far fewer people had only read the abstract, around one hundred and twenty, but there were still seventy or eighty who had read the full text. The number of downloads had even increased, probably to seventeen.

Then came the third paper.

The number of abstract-only readers was even lower, just over a hundred. More than seventy had read the full text, and sixteen had downloaded it.

"This ratio is pretty good!" Du Ke understood at once. "So many people only read the abstract of the first paper because they were probably tricked in by recommendations. They read the abstract, found it wasn't to their taste, and left. But those willing to read it basically went through all three of my papers in one go. Especially the download count—it stayed nearly identical, which means fifteen or sixteen people want to research it!"

Downloads did not equal citations, since they still had to publish papers.

But as long as even one person completed the research and published a paper, Du Ke would gain another citation.

"Still, why is the geographic distribution of readers so lopsided? Eighty-five percent are from China, while there are barely any overseas readers, scattered across places like Bulgaria and Argentina. Oh, there's even a US here—that should be America." After studying the reader count, Du Ke began studying the geographic distribution. After all, the Journal of Chemical Physics was an SCI journal aimed at the world.

But judging from the results, it was still the same old case of exporting and then selling back domestically.

Du Ke even maliciously guessed, "Could these readers in Bulgaria, Argentina, and America be local Chinese? Do foreigners really look down on the Journal of Chemical Physics that much?"